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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968531">Nobody Does It Better</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleslikeconstellations/pseuds/freckleslikeconstellations'>freckleslikeconstellations</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>James Bond [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Angst, Before No Time to Die, Cake, Confusion, Courage, Denial, Doubt, Earl Grey Tea - Freeform, Experiments, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Friendship, Gadgets, Gun references, Humour, Intervention, London, London Bridge, Loneliness, MI6, Multi, Obsession, Paperwork, Post-SPECTRE, Sadness, Sarcasm, Sexual References, Shooting, Strong Language, Tanner can't cook, Thames, Truth, Understanding, Untold stories, Whitehall - Freeform, aloof M, anti-social reader, bisexual Moneypenny, bisexual reader, caring for others, fixed path, grounded, nervous behaviour, perceptive Moneypenny, q's lab, tech, temporary headquarters, unexpected things in common, weapons training room, work worries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:34:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleslikeconstellations/pseuds/freckleslikeconstellations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Away from James and as you spend time with M, Eve Moneypenny, Q and Bill Tanner something becomes clearer...</p>
<p>The sequel to 'Sole Cover.'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Tanner/Reader, Eve Moneypenny/Reader, Gareth Mallory/Reader, Q/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>James Bond [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mallory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks for your support. </p>
<p>Just to re-iterate that this is set post-Spectre, but prior to No Time to Die. </p>
<p>It was a little hard to do the relationship tags for this part of the sequel, as though Reader is feeling attracted to them all by a certain level not a lot of <em>actual</em> romantic stuff happens, so just be aware of that. It is more her developing her relationships with them all. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Bang! Bang! Bang!</em> The bullets pierce the paper targets that contain the black and white outline of a man on them. A white cross is where the heart would be; yet you’ve only marked along the edges of it so far today.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You are in the training room-you have it to yourself-at the temporary MI6 Headquarters in London. Goggles, which look more like large glasses than anything scientific, protect your eyes, whilst headphones for your safety cover your ears. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You might have gotten away with James’s help, but it hadn’t been long before Mallory had sent someone after you, whilst James had been diverted with <em>other</em> matters. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time that you’d returned James’s last case had seen him retiring-that’s still a thought that catches you off guard when you openly contemplate it, one that <em>still</em> hasn’t sunk in and which causes you a little flare of jealousy now and then when you think that he’s <em>actually</em> gone and done it and with someone who <em>isn’t</em> you-so needless to say you haven’t seen him since at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now you’ve had a microchip installed beneath your skin that can track your movements by direct order of Mallory, are grounded and the only official break that you get where you feel more like yourself is when you are allowed to come to the training room to keep up with skills that you need for fieldwork. You also make use of the gym equipment that is available, but sometimes you wonder if Mallory will <em>ever</em> let you get out again. He’d given you a bollocking on your return and although he’d vouched for you in the end by telling the higher-ups that although the operation was botched it wasn’t worth losing a good [and <em>trained</em>] agent for, especially when you hadn’t given any secrets away in the time that you’d gone astray and the man that had ended up dying <em>hadn’t</em> exactly been a very nice one, he seems determined to punish you, putting you on probation to satisfy the <em>other</em> people who are in power, which means endless paperwork duty and an apparent unending time of headaches and boredom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thinking bad thoughts about your boss you ready yourself and shoot at the target. They hit, but are not the most accurate. You try and get your thoughts <em>away</em> from Mallory and attempt again to hit the target. As you do such a thing you sense someone’s presence, as they enter the room and come to a halt not too far behind you. You hadn’t heard them come into the room initially because of your protective headphones, <em>and,</em> feeling defensive you let one more shot off in warning, which hits badly too, before you put the gun that you are using for your exercises on safety [Q’s got yours under lock and key under Mallory’s instructions] slide your headphones to your neck with your other hand and turn around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man who you <em>loathe</em> in particular for keeping your weapon from you is stood there. “I hope that’s not <em>me.”</em> He nods at the paper that is scattered with bullets and gives you a bit of a half-smile. “You seem to be putting a lot of emphasis on this.” You don’t say anything and he frowns at you. “Coming here often. Do I have to remind you that a license to kill is also a license <em>not</em> to kill?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You let out a bit of a breath. “No sir.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He moves alongside you and re-calls the paper. His safety equipment is on the same position on his body as they are on <em>yours.</em> You watch as he leans forwards and studies the paper. You barely glance at it yourself. Regretfully you find yourself noticing Mallory’s lean body, how the light blue shirt that he is wearing threatens to come untucked, as does the dark blue tie that has been stowed partially into the shirt, whilst his braces seem to pin and clasp to his body all the more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your meandering eyes become focused again on more <em>appropriate</em> areas, however, when he says, “I don’t suppose that you think all that much about the people who are making the decisions when you are out in the field?” All of a sudden he rips the paper off and tears it down. It flutters down to the ground as if a body really <em>has</em> been hit by your attempts. A new sheet representing the target is sent back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wondering where he could possibly be going with this and whether he is about to lecture you on your lack of respect for authority figures, <em>again,</em> you say, “No sir.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” He looks back towards you and flashes you a bit of a tight smile, before he faces the front. “I can’t say that <em>I</em> did when I was out there, but I know, from my experience since, that even though I might have <em>disagreed</em> with some of them, that by and large the decisions that were made were the best ones for me in the end.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see sir.” You swallow ruefully and feel disappointed that he has done <em>nothing</em> to surprise you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think you do.” He swivels around. You look at him. “They were the best ones for me because I had the right <em>handler”</em>-you look at him, as if to say that you <em>know</em> his history and that he was a prisoner of war in Ireland-“In the end,” Mallory adds, having caught what you were thinking. Your face smoothes out. “I know that you got on better with the <em>other</em> M,” he continues, “But I’m hoping that you might be one of the ones to one day think about <em>me</em> in that way, or at the very least <em>realize</em> that I am not putting you on paperwork duty, so that you become miserable. Moneypenny said that when she came to drop something off earlier you seemed a little het up?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You’d passed Moneypenny on your way to lunch. “I work better in the field sir.” You <em>know</em> that you have been a little grouchy and like a caged animal in the past few weeks. Not even going for extra runs and workouts has managed to cool the pent-up frustration that you feel about your career at the moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like James,” he murmurs, looking at you closely now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A flicker of shock ripples across your face, before you grow defensive. “Will you be replacing him sir?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, eventually I suppose that I’ll have to,” he tells you, “And you’ll be out in the field soon enough, but when something comes along I need you to be at your best and <em>not</em> putting your personal feelings against me first.” Your eyebrow quirks up in response. “I saw your hit after I walked in”-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t <em>know</em> it was you, sir.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a maybe, but you were distracted and like I told you before I <em>hope”-</em> he gestures at the old paper-“That’s not me, but I <em>know</em> that it is at the same time.” You look at one another levelly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what are you doing here sir? Forgive me, but your office isn’t here. Were you looking for me?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stares at you for a moment, unblinkingly. A slow smile spreads across his face. “As I’m sure you’ll agree with I need to keep in shape too. Allow me.” He gestures to the gun that you’ve been holding this entire time. You give it to him and then watch. He puts his headphones in place, as you do, and is careful as he prepares the gun, but handles it too like it is second nature to him. He settles into a bit of a crouching position until he has lined himself up with the target. You think that he might be about to fire the weapon when he turns his head ever so slightly and half-looks at you with an amused expression about his face. “Do you mind?” He nods as if you should move away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Am I distracting you sir?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Pardon?”</em> He removes his headphones.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing sir. Don’t let me keep you.” You gesture at the target, taking a couple of steps back, but not moving any <em>more</em> than that. You fold your arms. He looks at you lingeringly for a moment with a hint of what you think might be a thin smile upon his face, before he shakes his head and resumes his focus.  He fires-making a neat circle around where the heart would be, before he looks like he might go in for the kill with one final bullet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t hate you,” you announce.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He releases the trigger, before he’d been planning to at your muffled words, but somehow the bullet hits straight in the heart. He looks at it for a moment with a kind of genuine surprised satisfaction about his face, before he turns his head to you. “What did you say?” He puts the gun on safety and lowers his headphones to his neck. Yours are already arched around your own. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t hate you,” you wonder if he is making you say it again deliberately.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Well, that’s a start.” The corner of your lip twitches. “I don’t detest you either.” He looks at you with sincere blue eyes as he says such a thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I need you to be honest with me.” He waits patiently to hear what you have to say. “How much longer am I going to be grounded for? I know that it’s to satisfy others, maybe even yourself, and to allow for more time to pass between that incident and if something were to happen again”-Mallory’s eyes narrow, he <em>hopes</em> that you won’t be putting him through this again any time soon-“But I can’t believe that paperwork is the <em>most</em> efficient thing that I could be doing around here”-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ ‘To satisfy <em>others?’</em> Is it so impossible for you to <em>believe</em> that I might be doing it for <em>your</em> benefit as well?” he tries to further emphasize what he has been trying to tell you all along, before he takes a step closer to you. “To give you a <em>chance</em> to get ready for battle once more?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You bridge the remaining gap that’s in between you. “I’m ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Prove it to me.” Those three words set something on <em>fire</em> inside of you. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, <em>M.”</em> He looks approvingly at you calling him that for the first time and then a little uncomfortable too as you draw his headphones back on, before you do your own. You take the gun from him, swivel, find the target as you do such a thing and pull the trigger.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Moneypenny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It should be straightforward. You go through the relevant documents that are on your computer, memorize anything that might be important [though this is sometimes hard to tell initially] and then note down on the linked spreadsheet that you’ve read them. Yet today you <em>can’t</em> seem to concentrate. You’ve read the same sentence at <em>least</em> ten times and could do with a break. Its not been all that long since your <em>last</em> one, however. You let out a sigh at the same time that a knock comes on your open office door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Going well?” It’s Eve Moneypenny. She’s wearing a skirt that is in a peanut shade of brown; combined with a cream coloured top, white heels and gold earrings. She’s carrying a white box and would no doubt think that it’s no <em>wonder</em> that you can’t concentrate with your office door open if she hadn’t had days like that too where the distraction of people passing seems to speed up the long working hours. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not at all,” you say dryly, “Does M want to see me?” You begin to feel worried at that point. Despite your attempts to bully yourself and do better since your talk with M in the weapons training room paperwork is <em>still</em> something that you can’t get excited about. Hence you feeling the way you do that day in the <em>first</em> place and you worry that although you’ve had some cordial conversations in the weapons training room with him they will stop and be replaced by another lecture or even <em>worse</em>-you are on a probationary period after all and you <em>know</em> that one more misstep will possibly see you on your way <em>out</em> of the Service and that M won’t be able to do anything more for you. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He doesn’t want to see you,” Moneypenny says in a tone that is semi-reassuring as you stand up from your desk and stretch. She wanders in properly. “Actually, I’m having a bit of a slow day myself. This helped me. Thought you might want to try a piece.” She deposits the box that she’d brought in with her in front of you. You look at it warily for a moment and feel the familiar itch for the gun that you are no longer able to carry on you. Moneypenny gestures that you should open the box, so you go ahead. The scent of citrus bursts free and slices of cake lay innocently enough there and don’t give you an <em>initial</em> reason why they would make you feel so much better. “I know that you’re trying to stay in shape,” she goes on to tell you casually and you feel strangely <em>pleased</em> that she’s maybe noticed how you are trying to keep your body and mind prepared for fieldwork, “But this is an orange and aperol drizzle cake, <em>and,</em> like its name suggests, it contains alcohol.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, thank God.” You lift a slice up, bask in the smell of it for a moment and then devour it whole. “You’re a <em>goddess</em> Eve Moneypenny.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I try.” She smiles at you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Feeling hot you sink back into your chair. Your hand absentmindedly delves in the box for another slice. It collides with Moneypenny’s who had been doing the same thing and your eyes knock against one another’s for a moment, before they come to fix on one another’s properly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You notice a piece of sparkling sugar on her upper lip, before your eyes go back to hers again. She’s staring at you as if she’s prepared to wait for whatever your next move might be. Slowly and courageously with your breath a little ragged you lean a little out of your chair and wipe the sugar off her mouth with the pad of your thumb. You exhale when you touch back down in your chair again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like you like this,” she encourages. As she straightens up she adds, “You should come out again. It might be fun.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You swallow and look down at your desk, “Oh, I don’t know…” You twirl a pen in your hand. You’re <em>used</em> to not mixing with people by now, but when you look up, see that she is gone and that further more she has left what’s left of the cake with you, you begin to feel bad. As you carry on with your work a plan begins to form in your head…  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*      </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You get the bravery to wander up to where Eve’s desk is just outside of Mallory’s office after lunch the following day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a blue dress with a black jacket she’s busy sorting some paperwork out on her desk and doesn’t look up to begin with. That is until you deposit your <em>own</em> box in front of her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She smiles, looking happy and encouraged as she puts down her fountain pen and pulls the white box in front of her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inside it is apparently a box of tea bags, innocent enough if someone were to see it at work, but once she peels back the front flap a more flamboyant gold cocktail lays inside a small and old-fashioned bottle. A note around its neck says, <em>‘Drinks on me, tonight?’</em> The drink had been procured from the bar where the pair of you had first met, the name of it being on the bottle. She smiles more widely at you, but you are <em>yet</em> to have an answer by the time that there is a disturbance at the door and Eve replaces the flap with a smooth efficiency.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>M returns from his <em>own</em> lunch, carrying his umbrella and stopping when he sees the pair of you on the way to his office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“F/N.”</em> His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Are you here to see me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No sir.” Your hand begins to tap against your leg. You see his eyes flick down to it and try to stop, but start up again almost immediately, your mind on whether or not Eve will accept your invite or turn your attempt at socializing down, saying that it’s too late and that you’re too awkward. Eve frowns, sensing, like she so often has, that you need a friend in your life. She’d never tell you such a thing of course-you’d probably run a mile if she did or think that she was only trying to be-friend you out of pity, something that couldn’t be <em>further</em> from the truth… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>M, meanwhile, makes a mental note about your habit and then re-focuses his attention on the white box that is upon Eve’s desk, needing some extra time to think about the former matter for now. “Is it your birthday?” he asks her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No sir.” He nods with a little confusion, but makes his way inside his office at any rate. <em>“Still</em> not my birthday,” Eve mutters underneath her breath and you make a mental note to ask her more about the date of that later, should she accept your invitation. For now you turn your gaze on her hopefully. <em>“Yes,”</em> she breathes in response to your stare and your eyes light up, your hand stops its restless tapping against your leg and <em>finally</em> you have something that is not work to take part in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Q</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aside from weapons training it’s your favourite part of the week. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You practically <em>skip</em> as you let yourself into Q’s lab, even if it <em>is</em> cold, as he insists on having it in the temporary headquarters rather than trying to find somewhere in Whitehall. All around people are experimenting and testing out different equipment. Some of them are nestled in the little areas that they have made for themselves within the archways that protrude from the walls. They make notes on clipboards or tick things off. Once, and with the previous Q, you might have been <em>keen</em> to see what was going on and what might help you during your next mission. [Of <em>course</em> that wouldn’t have made you any more <em>careful</em> with any of the equipment that you’d been given.] Now, however, after everything that you have been through and are <em>still</em> being denied, you ignore the whiz-bangs and chatter and make a bee-line for where Q is sitting in between two tables that are almost in an, ‘L’ shape towards the back of the room. The battered tables are covered in microscopes [one of which Q is using at the moment] piled books, equipment and lamps. A half-drunk cup of Earl Grey is <em>also</em> there on the one that he is using, looking innocent and inconspicuous. Filing cabinets nestle the wall that is close by.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without looking up from the microscope at you he holds his hand out. When you do not put a report, or whatever he’d been expecting, inside of it, he half-glances at you irritably. “Oh, it’s you,” he grumbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to see you <em>too,</em> Q,” you remark dryly, before you gesture at the top filing cabinet and where you <em>know</em> that your weapon is stowed [M had said that Q should not leave it out in the open this time and that it should be under lock and key and close to Q at <em>all</em> times. Of course, if you had a mission then both men are probably still <em>aware</em> that you’d find a way to get it out. For now though, attentive to the fact that your position in the job is a precarious one, you are just about <em>willing</em> to go through with this ordeal.] “May I?”   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Q tuts as if he is a teacher whose just discarded a pupil’s favourite toy and is now being begged for it back. He gets up rather awkwardly in his stripy amber, black and white top over a pale shirt and dark trousers, the lankiness of his body becoming apparent to you, although he doesn’t straighten up completely, but remains rather half-stooped, so that he can fumble for the key that is in his pocket. Once obtained he steps around what you would call <em>mess,</em> but is his particular brand of order, before he uses it to unlock the filing cabinet with a soft click.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand delves in and he seems to move something aside, before he very slowly produces your gun, holding it both gingerly and respectfully from the grip. As he turns around you scurry towards him, but he holds out a hand to stop you in your tracks. His glasses glint in the light and a beat passes between you, as he looks down at you. He begins to hand over the weapon, but you practically snatch it up, before he can finish his tidy presentation of it and he swears. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he does such a thing and shoving the filing cabinet shut. The contents of it roll back into place again, before he stows the key away and returns to the main table that he’d been working at.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whilst he gets back to whatever it is that he is doing you cup your favourite gun in your hands, stare at it and stroke at it reverently, your feet shuffling until you come to be beside Q’s table again. You practically let out a little groan of <em>pleasure</em> as you hold it the way that it’s <em>meant</em> to be held and feel the familiar weight and style of it. It fits perfectly around your fingers, or maybe it is the other way around, as if it had been <em>made</em> for you or you for it. Whatever the case you couldn’t have <em>taken</em> a better gun when you’d jumped off that yacht. Q looks you up and down as if he’s slightly afraid that you might lose control of your bladder in all your excitement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Check done and no evidence in sight, thankfully, of such a thing, he looks back into his microscope. A beat passes between you. “You know, I’ve never quite gotten your <em>love</em> for that weapon?” he tells you mock-casually. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You freeze a little and return to cupping your gun with your palms. It feels so obvious to you that <em>you</em> would feel that way, but as you stare at your gun you try and think about <em>why</em> you do and come up with a way to put it to Q, so that he might understand and no longer think you so strange. After a minute or two of silence, apart from the noise that is in the background, you come up with something, “I’ve been through a lot with it,” you begin to explain. “At times it has been my <em>only</em> way of survival. The only extension I had to my mind to get <em>through</em> whatever I was facing. What I suppose it comes down to though is that I’d be <em>lost</em> without it now, as you would be if you’d never discovered your passion for gadgetry and tech I suspect. What would you be without them Q?” A thought suddenly occurs to you. “How did you get into that field in the <em>first</em> place?”    </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d half-turned his head as you’d spoken, but now he turns back to his microscope. He looks into it again like someone who is trying to tell something important about the future, but you sense that he is not really seeing anything. A blush creeps around the side of his face and you have to blink for a moment, astonished that you have had <em>that</em> effect on him. “Maybe I can tell you over dinner some time?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You feel momentarily stunned and then <em>pleased</em> that the pair of you have managed to navigate <em>this</em> far into your relationship. “I’d like that,” you tell him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can share more of your insight into weapons.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You smile at one another.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tanner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You must be missing Bond?” Bill Tanner asks you in as mild a voice as possible as the pair of you sit on his rather battered leather settee, whilst you drink wine, but you can <em>sense</em> the importance that is behind his question.     </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill, knowing that you are <em>still</em> struggling with your paperwork duties as much as Eve does and at threat of getting restless again and pissing off M, had invited you to his place. You suspect that M might have quietly encouraged the thing as well but you can’t be sure. Bill’s question makes you <em>more</em> certain, however, that this is an intervention of some kind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The entire thing had gone pleasantly enough, before the question had spilled out of his lips. The pair of you had managed to keep things between the line of polite and friendly-the former there due to you not being quite sure of his intentions and him no doubt being wary of how you’ll react once he <em>does</em> reveal them to you-as you’d eaten his slightly <em>burnt</em> offerings and drunk the pleasant enough red wine. You’d even shared in some laughter when you, in both true ‘00’ and <em>you</em> fashion had speared the most burnt patch of food on your fork after you’d uncovered it and shown it to him with a bit of a teasing smile about your face. You’d assured him though that you’d been grateful for his effort. It has been a <em>long</em> time since <em>anyone</em> has cooked you dinner and burnt or not it feels like a significant moment in your life-and since your return to London-and one that you should try and be grateful for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he asks that question, however, it brings back memories that you try and stay one step ahead of for much of the time and you find yourself turning your gaze from his and towards the blown up black and white photograph of London Bridge with its lights twinkling at night time that is above the television set [Bill, like you, can’t afford the <em>real</em> view with London prices.] In the photo the river that you’d had your first sexual encounter with James on glitters. “Why do you ask?” <em>Again</em> you try and push the memory away from you and pretend that it doesn’t matter, that discovering that James had retired on your return <em>hadn’t</em> been a blow to you, that you haven’t been <em>aching</em> inside the entire time and that men with blond hair and chinks of ice for eyes <em>haven’t</em> been haunting your dreams.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill snorts, but not very lowly. You look at him. His face softens a fraction. “You”-he seems to be carefully pondering his words-“Seem a little lonely since you’ve gotten back. It took you a while it seems to be anything but <em>furious.”</em> You smile a little, remembering how you’d been enraged at the combination of being caught and grounded and how you’d been tempted to fight back against your punishment and the people in power because they’d tried to have you <em>killed</em> in the first place, so what had they <em>expected</em> you to do if you’d managed to escape? “But everyone’s noticed it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have they?” You feel a little defensive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Mm.”</em> He sips a little at his wine, before he replaces it upon the chipped coffee table. A couple of dark arch-lever files hang partially off its edge, a form to do with tax sticking out of one of them. He’d been about to shove them under the coffee table when you’d walked across, before you’d told him to let them be and he’d put them back rather hastily. “Q thought that you were just going to his lab all the time to see your gun. Then he cottoned on to the fact that you might, for some strange reason, have grown to <em>like</em> conversing with him.” His eyebrows might have risen, but you can tell from the spark in his eyes that he’s joking and you <em>know</em> that he gets along fairly well with Q in any case.           </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t ever tell him this, but we have more in common than I thought we would,” you try and keep things light.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see.” Bill reaches for and sips nervously at his drink. “And even <em>M</em> has noticed that you’ve been socializing more with Moneypenny of late and that you don’t even seem to mind <em>him</em> joining you when you’re training. Whilst Moneypenny’s noticed that you look sad sometimes, even on nights out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you asking me, Bill?” You look at him. You feel like you’re holding your breath, that you have been ever since you’d left James and then he’d left you in turn. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To see if you dispute the idea that you came to dinner tonight, even <em>though</em> we might have conversation, which makes you uncomfortable because you are <em>lonely,</em> I guess, and whether any one of us can ever serve as a possible replacement for him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe you don’t have to.” Looking at him challengingly you lean forwards, pluck the glass from him and place it instinctively back on the coffee table-thankfully you don’t miss or crash it into one of the files. “Maybe you’re good enough on your own.” Your eyes flick down and then you attach your lips to his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Mph,”</em> Bill protests for a moment, but relaxes <em>more</em> as you maneuver him down on the settee and assert yourself over him, trying <em>desperately</em> to stop any comparison between the way that Bill’s lips feel and James’s had until memory combines with the present and leaves you breathless. You can’t get lost for long though and when Bill’s warm hand cups just above where your top ends the feel of it is <em>so</em> different from James’s. He kisses you fervently back for a few moments, before he pushes you off him.    </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You stare at him from your corner of the settee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am <em>not</em> James, and I don’t think you’ll ever be satisfied until it’s <em>him</em> that you are seeing again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That probably won’t ever happen,” you’re matter-of-fact now, as your racing heart begins to calm down. A chink of something shifts in Bill’s expression and you realize that <em>he’s</em> probably sad about the prospect of not seeing the former agent again as well. <em>Still,</em> you try and go on as if you have <em>not</em> noticed such a thing because if you do, if you <em>both</em> acknowledge it, then it might be too much for you in that moment. “James has got a life outside the Service now. Dr. Madeleine Swann…there’s no reason why he would check in with us any more.” <em> ‘Except for the fact that once we were his family and all he had,’</em> you add a little bitterly in your head, but see no reason to share such a thing with Bill. You’d struggled enough to keep your voice level as it was.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill looks at you in a way that is both gentle <em>and</em> maddening. “Except for the fact that <em>both</em> you and I know James and what he’s like,” he reminds you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t think he can do it? Have a life <em>outside</em> of MI6?” You hope for such a thing <em>yourself</em> one day and to think that it might not ever happen…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do <em>you?”</em> Bill quips. “I’ve called James a lot of things in my time, but I’d be very surprised if <em>none</em> of us ever saw him again, especially <em>you.”</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m nothing special to him,” you’re dismissive of what he’s just said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He practically went <em>rogue</em> for you and whatever the pair of you have been telling yourselves if the opportunity arises then I’m <em>sure</em> that you’ll want to check the other is OK.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ ‘If the opportunity arises…’” You shrug your shoulders and avoid his gaze, but your heart skips a beat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill rolls his eyes at the fact that you’re in denial. “Serving his country and the honour that goes with that is in his blood. It’s in <em>yours.”</em> He lifts his glass from the coffee table and raises it in a silent toast to you. “I think he’ll come back and that you best get ready for it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Ready?”</em> you pretend to be surprised, as if seeing James Bond again would be easy and smooth and <em>nothing</em> that you couldn’t handle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill looks at you knowingly. “Yes, so that you can be open, not with Q, Moneypenny, M or even <em>me,</em> but with who you need to be.” He places his drink down upon the coffee table, gets up, touches briefly at your shoulder and goes to the kitchenette, as if there is suddenly something for him to do when <em>really</em> you know that he is just giving you time to think.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You let his words sink in for a moment. “Bill, thank you,” your voice echoes around the dimly lit apartment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill lets out a grunt of acknowledgement and then pretends to be busy again, whilst you settle back on the settee and look at the photo of London.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed this look at Reader's relationships with the other characters. </p>
<p>I intend to post one last addition to this series. I know that I definitely want to do a chapter post-No Time to Die, but obviously I need to see the film in order to write that. Should I post the first half of the final addition or wait until I can post it all at the same time? Please let me know if you have any thoughts on this and again I hope you have enjoyed the series so far. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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